


The Santa Clause Task Force Theory

by stjarna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (Daisy makes a short appearance and isn't identified as Daisy, 25 Days of Christmas Prompt Challenge, All mistakes are my own, F/M, Some bus kids, Strangers to Lovers, but it's totally Daisy), some mild swearing in front of children, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: From the25 Days Christmas Romance ChallengeDay 3: Character A works as a Santa’s helper. Character B has a small sibling/child.





	The Santa Clause Task Force Theory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilsciencequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsciencequeen/gifts).



> For @Lilsciencequeen, because she's an awesome friend and it's always fun to chat with her about new fic ideas.

Jemma flinched when she saw the pained expression on the mall Santa’s face. No amount of fake beard could hide his agony when the little girl on his lap used his crotch to push herself off his lap.

“Ugh! Shite. Bloody hell. Fourth time today,” he muttered in a thick Scottish brogue to Mrs. Santa, quietly, but not quite quietly enough for Jemma, who was first in line, waiting patiently behind the thick red rope with Liam. Luckily, Liam seemed too star-struck to actually listen to Santa’s foul language, instead staring at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Mrs. Santa leaned a bit closer. “Yeah, well, considering your monk-like tendencies, it’s not like it matters.”

“First of all, my monk-like tendencies aren’t voluntary,” Santa growled back, “and second of all it still bloody hurts.”

Jemma tried in vain to suppress a quiet chuckle. It seemed awfully inappropriate to find Santa’s pain amusing, but somehow hearing the festive fake couple in their bright red outfits bicker was rather refreshing.

Santa and Mrs. Santa looked up in surprise, when the photographer across from them fake-sneezed loudly to get their attention. Their heads immediately shot from the photographer to the long line of children with their parents, which had continued to grow as they’d bantered.

Santa cleared his throat, before announcing with a noticeably deeper voice than he’d cursed with before. “Well, who’s next?”

Liam excitedly raised his hand, waving enthusiastically. “Me! Me! Me!”

A smile flashed over Santa’s face, and he waved the five-year-old over. “Well then, come here, will ya?”

Jemma followed Liam, helping him onto Santa’s lap and ensuring that none of Santa’s private parts would be damaged in the process.

“Ya tell me your name now?” Santa asked Liam, who wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

“You talk funny,” Liam announced, staring at Santa sternly. Jemma’s eyes widened and she pressed her lips into a thin line, mildly panicked over Liam’s bluntness.

“Wha—?” Santa’s mouth gaped slightly ajar. He pointed at himself. “I’m talking plain bloody English, you little knob.”

Liam seemed surprised by Santa’s grumpiness, but Jemma found the poor man’s mood rather understandable, particularly considering that he’d apparently had his testicles tormented no less than four times in one day already.

“If I may help,” Jemma said cheerily, leaning slightly closer so both Liam and Santa could see her. The former looked back at her questioningly, whereas the latter now had a bit of a deer-in-headlight expression about him, presumably anticipating a stern talking to from an enraged parent.

“Ummm,” Santa muttered quietly, and Jemma decided that she better move on with her plan, before the poor man became even more flustered.

“See, Liam,” Jemma gestured at Santa with one hand, “Santa here is from Scotland, which—like England, where I am from—is part of the United Kingdom. Thus, much like myself, he speaks with an accent different from yours.”

“Yeah, but Santa didn’t talk like that last year,” the five-year-old replied, glancing skeptically at the man on whose lap he was sitting.

“Yes, well, see,” Jemma embarked on an attempt to explain the situation, “as you know very well, the Earth is quite large, and quite a lot of people all over the globe are celebrating Christmas. Plus, we need to factor in different time zones, time for travel and the likes. Even with magic reindeers and elves to help him out, Christmas is simply not a one-person job. Therefore, truth be told, there is not just one Santa Clause, but rather something of a Santa Clause task force, all responsible for different locations and time zones.”

Jemma paused for a moment, noticing that both Liam and Santa were staring at her wide-eyed.

“Due to his accent, I would assume,” she continues, “that this particular Santa is usually responsible for Scotland or maybe all of the British Isles, and is only filling in here today, maybe due to the sickness of one of his fellow Santa colleagues.”

Jemma gave Santa a knowing look, encouraging him to play along, and he seemingly got her hint, nodding in confirmation. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Which means,” Jemma turned back to Liam, “he’s basically doing at least a double-shift, and had to travel all the way from Scotland to here, which is really quite exhausting, don’t you think.”

Liam nodded shyly.

Jemma gently placed her hand on Liam’s arm, leaning a bit closer and smiling at him. “I think if you really and truly want that intro to engineering kit from Santa, then maybe you should cut him some slack for being a little grumpy today, and certainly not make fun of him for having an accent different from yours.”

Liam grew a little smaller on Santa’s lap. He slowly turned his head, looking at Santa with big apologetic puppy eyes. “Sorry, Santa.”

Santa smiled widely and his blue eyes sparkled warmly back at the five-year-old. He bobbed his head once. “Quite alright, Liam.” He briefly glanced at Jemma, the corner of his mouth ticking up into a grateful smile, before focusing back on Liam. “So, an engineering set?”

* * *

Jemma rummaged through her bag, trying to find her wallet while waiting in what appeared to be the slowest moving line to ever have formed.

“Aren’t you missing something?”

Her head shot up and she turned around, looking confused at the young curly-haired man who had stepped in line behind her at the coffee shop.

“What?” Jemma squinted. There was something familiar about these striking blue eyes and the boyish grin. She couldn’t help but smile when she recognized the mall Santa from a few hours earlier.

“He’s back with his parents,” Jemma explained. “They asked me if I could take him to see Santa so that _they_ could go and buy his gifts.”

The young Scotsman tucked his hands in his pockets, lifting his head in understanding. “Intro to engineering kit?”

Jemma’s smile grew even wider, surprised that he’d remembered what Liam had asked for. Then again, their visit had presumably been rather memorable. “Naturally.”

“He’s got good taste.” The young man chuckled briefly, before clearing his throat. “Thank you… you know for earlier.”

Jemma waved him off. “Oh, you’re quite welcome. It must be rather exhausting, all those kids.”

He scoffed. “God, you have no idea.” He curled one hand around the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly. “And I wasn’t even supposed to be Santa.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows in surprise. “No?”

He shook his head. “I was supposed to be an elf. Elves don’t need to talk much. They just shove the kids towards Santa or work the register for the photo packages. ‘Package 1? That’ll be 19.99,’” he remarked in an overly friendly tone and with a fake smile plastered to his face.

Jemma assumed it was his best attempt at impersonating a salesperson, and she found it rather adorable, causing her to chuckle.

The young man slumped his shoulders, smiling shyly. “I would have much preferred that. As you probably noticed human interaction is not one of my strong suits.”

Jemma pursed her lips in pity, before laughing quietly. “I think you’re doing quite nicely now.”

He didn’t say anything in return, but there was an intriguing sparkle in his eyes that sent an unexpected kaleidoscope of butterflies surging through Jemma’s stomach.

Jemma cleared her throat, gesturing at him. “So what happened to Santa that made it necessary to promote an elf?”

He scoffed. “Santa couldn’t hold his liquor last night,” he replied drily.

Jemma laughed out loud. “Oh. Poor thing.”

The young man joined in her amusement, before pulling his right hand from his pocket, extending it in Jemma’s direction. “I’m Fitz by the way.”

Jemma smiled, accepting his handshake. “Jemma.”

He bobbed his head in acknowledgment. “Nice to meet you, Jemma.”

“Likewise.”

Fitz gestured towards the coffee shop counter. Somehow they’d made it at least a little closer during their conversation. “Could I buy you a cup of coffee? Or tea? Whatever you were going to get here? I mean, we’re already in line and it’s the least I can do considering you probably saved me from cussing even more in front of a bunch of weans.”

“Oh!” Jemma tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, her gaze briefly wandering to the ground, hoping to hide the blush she could feel rising on her cheeks. She looked back up, unable to stop her lips from pulling into a beaming smile. “That would be quite lovely, actually.”

The corners of his mouth ticked up into a wide grin. “Excellent.”

Feeling her confidence quickly return, Jemma gestured at Fitz. “And then maybe I could buy you a cup later.”

“Oh?” he stammered, his eyes widening in curious surprise.

“Yes.” Jemma nodded. “The sports store at the other end of the mall probably has some.”

“Wha—?” Fitz furrowed his brow, squinting at Jemma in utter confusion.

“I think if you should have to fill in for Santa again, you need to wear protective gear,” Jemma replied, smiling suggestively. “You never know when your monk-like tendencies might come to an end.”

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist throwing in some NoChill "You mean once we have sex" Jemma at the end for good measure.


End file.
